


Never Fade Away From Me

by TRIVlAIove



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner, newtmas - Fandom, the maze runner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-04-19 06:40:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14231511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRIVlAIove/pseuds/TRIVlAIove
Summary: "Newt didn’t recognise a single thing about him, not the dark tone of his hair, the subtle tan to his skin, or the chocolate haze of his iris’; he also didn’t recognise the tight feeling his chest - the almost instinctive urge to touch him - that came by just looking at him."A story in which Newt loves the newest greenie the moment he lays eyes on him but he doesn't know how or why.Inspired by Liam Stewart trying to deal with his feelings for Ruby in Never Fade by Alexandra Bracken.





	1. Chapter 1

Newt fists his t-shirt at the sound of metal on metal. The harsh grinding of the steel motor choking with the strain of another delivery and another greenie. Most of the gladers had already taken up their curious positions at the cage edge, eyes glued to the closed gates like they could already see the poor soul who was unfortunate enough to join them. Newt hesitates in his hammock, his legs crossed over one another and his hand tucked under his head as a pillow.

He isn’t sure what it is about that particular day that makes him slow. He watches the glint of the sunrise licking at the west wall, casting the rest of the glade in a soft orange shadow. It would be mere minutes before the sun rose high enough to bathe their names, engraved between the ivy, in sunlight.

For some reason, he waits, counting the seconds and listening to the roar of the unfitting contraption in the centre of their home. He gets to thirteen before Alby lightheartedly punches his ankle knocking them apart and jostling his bed.

“What’s got you all mopey, eh?” He asks, his usual sideways smirk pulling his face into an almost boyish expression. It was rare that Newt noticed how young Alby actually was; his authority meant that they all looked up to him like an older brother or a leader who had all the answers. In instances like this though, in the early hours of the morning, with the shadows of the night before clinging to the skin beneath his eyes, it was a brutal reminder that they were all just boys.

He hadn’t given much thought to how old they both were but he felt the familiar desire of knowledge burning his chest, the same way it did when one of the younger boys would tell fairytales of their parents around the fire.

“Nothin’, shank,” Newt murmurs, steadily getting out of his hammock and stretching the sleep away.

He slips his feet into his boots, his only pair tattered and coming away at the sole, before following Alby off across the grass. The two of them take up a light jog almost instinctually despite the box only just locking in beneath the gate. It was an unspoken rule of the glade that when you move, you move fast.

“Alright, everybody back up a step,” Alby calls when he’s close enough, gently sliding into the spot some of the boys had left open for him. “Don’t wanna give the greenie a heart attack.”

Newt takes up a spot beside him, glancing around the circle in what he hopes is a warning stare. It only works enough to have a few of the boys shuffle back on their heels. Alby’s hiss is more effective, sending the boys back at least a step. All instructions went out the window though when they saw their new greenie- at least for Newt, it did.

He’d listened rather than watched Gally jump down into the pen, his first priority going to the boxes and giving them a less than gentle kick to decipher their contents. Newt’s gaze had been focused on Chuck, the youngest boy in camp and their last greenie. He supposed that title didn’t belong to him anymore and the elated grin on his face told him that he was more than okay with that. Being the greenie wasn’t as fun as it sounded. It was a month of confusion and being lied to, both adding up to be perhaps the worst welcoming ever.

No wonder Chuck was so happy it had come to an end.

It was the greenie’s startled yell that brought Newt’s gaze to him. He wished he had held off a little longer, relished in the peace and quiet of his head for a second more before it was barreled with thoughts he didn’t understand. Newt didn’t recognise a single thing about him, not the dark tone of his hair, the subtle tan to his skin, or the chocolate haze of his iris’; he also didn’t recognise the tight feeling his chest - the almost instinctive urge to touch him - that came by just looking at him. It fell over him like water, drenching him head to toe with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was fucking terrifying.

The steps toward the edge felt involuntary - like invisible hands had grabbed him by the waist and pulled him forward. The boy was a beacon, whether he meant to be or not. Newt had so many questions, so many urges, that he needed to be fulfilled. If not for Alby grabbing his wrist he would’ve gone over the side and fell in a heap beside the boxes just for a chance to touch him.

“You alright, mate?” Alby hums at his ear, his fingertips a vice at his wrist. “You look like you’ve seen a griever.”

He feels the tip of his ears turn pink. Was his terror written so clearly on his face? Had any other of the boys sensed the dread seeping from his mind and casting the glade in a net?

Rationally he knew that seeing a griever in that cage would’ve been terrible but he couldn’t get past the feeling that this boy, him being here with him, was somehow much, much worse. An intense worry and fear settled in his stomach like a stone and almost pulled him to his knees.

_He shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be here._

It suddenly felt hard to breathe.

He’s barely able to hold it together, especially with Alby’s unwavering gaze like a gun pointed at the side of his head. The greenie hadn’t even noticed Newt yet, his eyes focused solely on Gally and his hands fisted in his t-shirt, but Newt was already ready to run away from him. He knew that when he finally did meet his eyes, he would fall apart.

“Day one, greenie,” Gally murmurs, pulling the boy unwillingly to his feet. “Rise and shine.”

The greenie did well to find his footing on the climb up and to accept the helping hands at the edge before Gally shoved him like a doll to the dirt. The gladers were quick to leave the box, ringing around the greenie like he was a shining new toy. Newt follows suit, ignoring the concerns of his friend at his heels. He was lucky that everyone was preoccupied. He could smell the weakness on himself like it was rotting his skin. Someone would notice it soon - someone else would know that this greenie wasn’t like the others.

Newt pushes to the front and is quick to notice Chucks curls amongst the rabble, his hands outstretched as if ready to prod the newbie. The greenie’s gaze jumps like a record, landing on one person and only to find another a second later. Each noise seemed to grab his attention and his head was struggling to make sense of which one to focus on. Newt knows it’s his responsibility to get his attention, to introduce the glade and everyone in it, but he can’t get himself to do it. He wants him to look at him on his own - to acknowledge this charged wire pulled taut between them.

_Look at me. Look at me. Look at me._

Despite the words forming on Newt’s tongue, he can’t get them out. Instead, they sit and turn to turn to ash in his mouth.

He watches with an almost inhuman stillness as the greenie slaps away Chuck’s prying hands and takes off running. The wire between them stretches, screaming with the effort, and the charge spits sparks off into the distance. He must see it - feel it. Newt couldn’t just be losing his mind, could he?

Had so many days trapped in this place finally ruined him in ways he couldn’t repair?

The gladers watch, the noise of their excited screams nothing but white noise in Newt’s ears. For some reason, watching his silhouette shrink into the sunlight drops another stone in Newt’s stomach that settles precariously on top of the first.


	2. Chapter 2

The day settles. 

The temporary excitement of a greenie had been swallowed by daily routine. On Alby’s orders, the gladers had left the new boy in the mud and gone about their usual jobs. It took a few tries to convince them to stop laughing, but Alby had used his leader-voice and they’d been off. Newt had taken that as his moment to recede, slipping away from his responsibilities to the forest. Alby had called after him but with a glance at the newbie, had given up. 

What did Newt care if Alby were to scold him? He had never asked for so much as an hour off. Newt was known for his unwavering loyalty to his responsibilities. There was no task he’d leave unfinished and no hand he wouldn’t lend. Alby could allow him this moment. He had to.

Branches snap under his feet, each noise reverberating in the otherwise silent space. No birds were chirping. No wind was rustling the leaves. The place was lifeless and unreal. He hadn’t realised until that moment how alien that was - how wrong. It was another reminder that he and the others didn’t belong here; the quiet waved like a red flag next to twenty others. 

Newt settles himself at the forest’s edge, with his back against a tree and the glade playing out in front of him like a theatre. Without meaning to, he found himself leaning to get a better view in hopes of seeing the greenie - wait no. That wasn’t why he was leaning forward (at least that’s what he tells himself).

Despite his best efforts to forget about the new boy, he couldn’t help but think about him. There was something about him that made Newt want to protect him but simultaneously scared him - terrified him, actually. Whatever feeling he felt in his chest, the floating petals swaying beneath his skin wasn’t normal. It was too new - too strong.

There was something about the boy he couldn’t place. Relationships and emotions were meant to go hand and hand down a path towards comfort - forever entwined and always at the same pace. If one dived forward or fell back the other would have to let go; this was the way for everyone.

But why wasn’t this the case when he looked at the greenie? 

They hadn’t even spoken but he could see his emotions at the end of the path screaming for the relationship to come back. It didn’t make sense.

Newt forces his eyes closed with the palms of his hands, rubbing until he sees stars beneath his eyelids. There was something calming about the stars and the night that held them. The darkness meant the stone doors would slide closed and they all could exhale into the sunset. They’d allow the night to cage their worries until the next day.

Today was different, though. As it was on this day every month, the boys were all chipper. There would be a celebration today - a gathering around the bonfire with Gally’s god awful alcohol and a harmless fight or two. Newt had never been one to get in the ring, but tonight maybe he would. Maybe Gally could knock the petals out of him and onto the floor.

“Newt!” 

He releases his fists from where they had closed around the grass. He doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s Alby, probably with the green bean in tow. He would have to do this eventually but he had thought he might’ve had more time. For what, he didn’t know. 

It’s harder than Newt cares to admit to get to his feet, then it’s even harder to glance sideways at the newbie. He finds himself focusing instead on the boy's outstretched hand and the way his fingers tremble slightly in the space between them. 

“Hey,” Newt murmurs, closing his hand around the newbie’s and forcing a grin on his face. It’s clear by the way Alby’s brows furrow that he can see right through it. His expression flitters from a smile to a surveying stare. Newt prayed that his emotions were settled beneath his skin rather than written on his face. He knew that if anyone were to guess his troubles, it would be Alby. It had never been an issue before, if anything it had been a blessing, but for once it worried him. 

Alby looks Newt head to toe, spares a quick glance for the newbie and their joined hands, then sighs. 

They had other things to deal with now. Well, one thing. One person.

“Green bean, meet Newt.” Alby introduces. It’s a struggle to meet his gaze and then a damn impossibility to keep it. Newt hadn’t realised that he’d pictured these eyes in his head before- that he’d dreamt of them beside him on silent nights before maze. That he’d already seen the curious yet completely taken look he’d have when they finally met.  _ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck _ . 

The same wire between them practically glows with electricity. It hums pleasantly in Newt’s ears, and he barely picks up Alby’s following statement. 

“When I’m not around, he’s in charge.”

The greenie swallows hard, glancing down at their hands. Is it strange that they haven’t let each other go yet? Their hands are still settled inside each others, their fingers rested like feathers on one another's skin. Are they both aware of how much their hands shake?

Newt withholds the urge to swallow before he says, “It’s a good thing you’re always around then.” He breaks his gaze with the boy, passing a fleeting gaze of awareness to Alby. 

I’m fine, he tries to communicate, this is fine.

“Name’s Thomas.” The greenie- Thomas- whispers. 

He hears his own breath hitch. His name feels like a punch in the gut - like someone had reached down his throat and lifted the petals back into the air until he was choking on them.

“Newt?” It’s Alby speaking to him, but he just nods. Keeps nodding.

Where had he heard that name before? It sounded like the answer to a question he’d waited years to hear. Or like the crescendo of a symphony finally reaching its peak. 

“Newt?” He’s surprised that it’s Thomas who calls for him this time, his voice soft like a cloud drifting in an open sky.

“I was-” This time Newt does swallow. He forces his thoughts down into his chest with his feelings and locks them away. There would be another time for this - he’d make time. “I was just thinking about your dash earlier. For a second I thought you had the chops to be a runner… until you face planted.” 

It clears the air like a strong wind. Alby’s face blooms into a smile and he lets out a small, agreeing laugh. Thomas’ expression is the polar opposite. The poor boy looks confused - maybe even slightly horrified at the idea of Newt joking about him. “What’s a runner?”

Newt and Alby share a fleeting but complicated glance at the question. As much as Newt hopes the greenie doesn’t catch it, he sees the shift in his features - the intrigue that creeps into his eyes at the thought of a secret. 

They’d made a rule to hide the reality of the maze from all the newbies, out of fear that they might try their luck only to die by nightfall. It had happened before and they all worried for every newbie who entered. Newt didn’t feel that worry now though - not with Thomas. 

He wondered if Alby saw it in him too; the drive he had to finish this and to be free. Perhaps that made him trouble, but somehow Newt knew that Thomas would be the good kind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry, I've been so busy and I've neglected my fic but I'm back! I hope this makes up for it. Please comment your opinions and feedback, as always I'd be super grateful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry that i haven't updated in so long, I hope this makes up for it. There'll be Newtmas fluff next chapter i promise x

Just as the morning turned to afternoon, the afternoon slipped into the evening. The sunlight was just hanging on to the glade, slowly climbing up the wall and out into another world. This was always Newt’s favourite time of day, when the last of the daylight bathed their home in tints of orange and red and the night began to peer over them, bringing the promise of a new day.

Newt looks to those around him. They were all eating Frypan’s latest stew, a new recipe he’d decided to make in celebration of a new greenie. The taste of it settled comfortingly in his stomach, warm and soothing.

Across the fire, Alby walks with Thomas towards him. It was almost an unspoken tradition that Alby would drop off the newbie with him and return to his leader duties. Today he’d decided instead to drop him off with Chuck, who had, of course, spilt their secrets almost immediately. Thomas had since had this permanent frown on his face, as if their predicament was something he was determined to solve.

Alby waves at Newt when he’s sure he’s watching and Newt lifts a hand. Thomas notices him then, sat a bit off from the rest on a fallen log. His face changes, more contemplative than before - happier.

“Hey, Newt,” Alby says when he’s close enough.

Newt raises the glass in his hand, full with Gally’s drink. It wasn’t a normal drink, it was bitter and, if they were all honest with themselves, disgusting but they drank it anyway because it made their thoughts turn to water for a little while. All their worries were just a bit simpler after they’d all had a drink.

“Hey, Alby… Thomas.” The boy nods back at him with a small smile.

“Hope you don’t mind me dropping off the Greenie with you,” Alby asks. Newt resists a frown as he nods and pats the grass to the side of him. It sounds like a perfectly normal thing to ask except that… Alby never asked. He was the leader and Newt didn’t follow because he had to, rather because he wanted to, which meant there was never a need to ask.

He’d asked about this though, which meant he doubted the answer.

“Go for it,” Newt replies, hoping neither boy noticed the slight hesitation.

Alby bids them both goodbye with a small nod and Newt can’t help but notice the way he pauses before he leaves, like he wasn’t sure if he was making a mistake or not. He doesn’t take it personally, he isn’t sure himself how this is going to pan out.

Thomas plops down next to him, all long limbs and no coordination. Newt stifles a laugh at the sound of him cursing.

“You alright, mate?”

The boy hums softly, the sound a mixture of amusement and frustration. Newt thought it was cute - wait, no he doesn’t. He definitely didn’t think it was cute.

Silence spreads out after them. The warm night had since fully enveloped them, pressing in on all sides like a spell. Every passing second was a comfort. Maybe this won’t make sense, but Newt felt like he knew Thomas. His presence felt so incredibly natural like he’d been broken without realising but now he was on the way to being fixed.

“Hell of a first day, greenie,” Newt finally decides to say.

It had been a bit mad that greenie had gotten into a fight on his first day. Most tended to shy away from everyone, too scared to question the workings of their odd community. But not Thomas, he’d decided to get straight on to Gally’s deadpool.

The boy glances sideways at him, a small nervous smile on his lips like he was worried Newt might be ashamed of him for it.

Newt smiles back at him, hoping to ease the worry written in his face. Somehow he could see every emotion that passed through the newbies face, the worry and the shock sat in the lines on his skin and Newt could read it all clear as day. Was that weird or was Newt just reading into it? Maybe that was just Thomas - easy to read. Something told him that wasn’t true though.

“Here, put some hair on your chest.” Newt passes him his drink in the hopes of sparking conversation, the thick cloudy liquid sloshing in its jar.

The greenie still doesn't doesn’t say anything, he just nods in thanks and takes it from him hesitantly. Maybe Newt should’ve warned him not to drink too much, but instead, he just watches as Thomas gulps down a large mouthful only to spit half of it out between his legs.

“What is that?” he coughs, hitting his chest with his flat palm.

“I don’t even know,” Newt says honestly, taking it back for a large swig. “It’s Gally’s recipe. Trade secret.”

Thomas sours slightly at that but Newt can see already that the drink opened a door, perhaps only slightly but enough. “Well, he’s still an asshole.”

Newt didn’t really know what to say about that. It was common knowledge that he and Gally had grown close at the beginning, sneaking off into the forest to share quiet moments alone. They were similar, unmatched but close enough. Together they shared an odd agreement where they’d share each other's thoughts to soften the burden.

It wasn’t the same now though, they’d changed. The years in the maze had turned Gally to stone, hardening his mind into an impenetrable fortress. And Newt? He’d lost himself entirely. The height of the stone had climbed over him and fallen, crushing him beneath it. It had taken a while to find himself again and when he did, he realised he was different. Irreparable.

The point was, Gally was difficult but not unreasonable. The maze had changed them all but somewhere beneath the surface, they were all still just greenies trying to figure out their surroundings.

It takes him a second but eventually Newt says, “he saved your life today.” Thomas’s gaze settles on his fingers, and Newt’s words settle in his head. Whether Thomas wanted to admit it or not, Gally wasn’t the enemy. The only possible enemy you could have in this place was yourself.

“The maze is a dangerous place,” Newt finishes. There wasn’t much to say about the maze. A maze was a maze, it didn’t need any more explanation than that. Their challenge was clear.

“We’re trapped here, aren’t we?” Thomas says after a beat of silence. Newt turns to him, watching the worry on his face turn to frustration.

“Not forever,” he replies, but Newt doesn’t know if he believes it. Each day felt like an eternity now, every second stretching endlessly into another. Maybe once he’d believed they’d get out of here but now he wasn’t sure.

Thomas meets his gaze; his eyes are soft and open, inviting him to stay and share his secrets. And he would. He can’t help the need to have Thomas listen to him and by the looks of it, he’d be happy to.

Eventually, Newt looks away to his jar settled in Thomas’ hands. If it wasn’t so dark out he was sure his cheekbones would be noticeably tinged with red.

“You’re not like everyone else, Newt.” Thomas murmurs suddenly. The greenie finishes the jar, like he might be trying to swallow the humiliation of saying that out loud.

Newt had gone still - closing his eyes to take it in. Whatever he thought about it wouldn’t materialise. Thomas had thrown his thoughts into the deep end and they couldn’t swim - or worse still they didn’t want to. His mind would rather drown in this. Whatever this is.

When Newt opens his eyes he finds the greenie staring at him. His gaze was like a caress, slipping lovingly over his lips, cheekbones, and to his eyes. It wasn’t a look you were supposed to give someone after knowing them for a day, but Newt couldn’t stop himself from matching the stare - from sliding closer so that their legs were touching.

“What do you mean?” He finds himself asking, but it's a stupid question. He knows what Thomas means because he feels it too. They were stuck in orbit around each other, both slowly being pulled into the black hole at the centre. He couldn’t explain it and he didn’t understand it and it scared the hell out of him.

“I feel like I-”

“Hey, Greenie!” Its Gally, calling from over by the fighting pit. Thomas breaks their trance first, turning with an almost relieved expression to the person he hated the most.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna try your hand in the ring?” Newt knows Gally well enough to know this wasn’t going to be good. The look on his face was devilish and the glint in his eye was just as evil.

If Thomas asked him, he would’ve asked him not to do it - to stay tucked into his side until the night turned into the day. They could share their fears with the dark and let the sunlight wash them away.

But Thomas doesn’t ask. In fact, he doesn't say anything. Even more disgracefully than when he sat down, he gets to his feet and walks away. Refusing to watch the car crash from afar, Newt gets to his feet too. Everything sways beneath him when he stands, the universe threatening to pull out from under his feet.

He remembers how to walk after a short moment and gets to the ring just as one of the gladers calls for the game to begin. Newt has to find a seat, sure that their fast movements could cause him to lose his balance.

Newt can’t help but think they play like children. Children that hate each other, he means. Gally’s the first to push Thomas. The boy flys backwards into the crowd before being pushed back into the ring.

1 to Gally.

He wasn’t surprised. Gally always had a deep rage inside him, even when they were dating (if you could call it that.) No one really knew the depths it went, besides Newt. He was so good at finding other outlets for it. Cutting down a tree, questioning authority, beating his friend’s ass in the fighting pit. Once or twice he’d been able to open up; he and newt had talked into the early hours of the morning about it - about how he was fed up of being afraid, confused, and helpless. That it made him angry.

The anger had moulded him into someone else - someone that Newt could honestly say he admired.

Thomas looks frustrated now. Newt definitely doesn’t watch the firelight dancing on the newbie's cheekbones, or the way his muscles flex under his sleeves when he closes his fists. Definitely not.  

Gally had decided to dance around him, making a show of being the best in the glade. It was a normal occurrence, one that all of them were entirely unbothered by now. Well, except Thomas.

They go back at it quickly but Gally takes it in his stride, pushing Thomas across the ring to the edge and- Oh. _Oh_.

Thomas had played a sneaky game, slipping out of Gally’s grasp at the last minute and allowing him to walk himself out of the ring and onto the floor. The crowd hushed in temporary surprise only to pick up an excited cheer, Newt following along.

One all.

Thomas catches Newt’s smile across the pit and gives a proud smile back. He looks pleased with himself, as he should be… but Gally, annoyed and humiliated, kicks out Thomas legs from underneath him and the greenie falls hard on the side of his head. The crack is deafening.

“Tommy!”

The drunkenness seeps away from him in a second, clearing the path between him and Thomas lying semi-conscious on the ground. Gally crosses his arms, his title regained and another boy at his feet.

Newt elbows him hard out of the way causing him to stumble. It’s clear that if it was anyone else he might have caused a scene but instead he just looks over Newts mop of blonde hair, his features falling.

“Tommy,” Newt murmurs, falling onto his knees and taking the boys cheeks between his hands. The boy’s skin feels hot, almost burning him. It’s impossible for Newt to know if it’s real or if his mind is setting this feeling on fire.

Thomas moans, rolling over towards Newt’s knees. Newt lets him, shifting his hands to the boy's hair hoping to slow the pain.

“Newt...” Gally breathes, stepping towards the pair. Newt lifts his head, turning to his friend with a warning glare. A wave of protectiveness fell over him for Thomas and with that came an anger that reddened his vision.

He wasn’t an angry person, especially towards his friends, but there was something about the brunette that made his entire body run a thousand times faster. Every emotion he’d had today felt like a punch in the stomach and right now he wanted to punch Gally in the stomach.

He feels a flurry of words fall from his mouth without his permission and wishes almost immediately that he can take them back. “I’m sick of you taking your own problems out on other people!” His knees work, lifting him to his feet in a fit of rage. Gally takes a step back, his fists clenched for a fight but his body not willing; he won’t fight with Newt. Never him.  “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, even when we dated it was always about you. And that day I went into the maze you didn’t even-”

“Newt!” Alby steps forward, eyes wide and alarmed. “Enough!”

Newt takes in a breath that shudders his chest. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’d forgotten that it isn’t just them - that there is a crowd of boys who’d never seen him like this before.

For a second he feels like an idiot, a blinded idiot that was angry over nothing at all, but then Thomas makes another pained sound at his feet and the shame soars out of reach. Instead, he feels something warm and gentle surface in his throat, floating beside the sea of petals.

So he glances at Alby and apologises to his friends on autopilot. He knows he’ll have to apologise again, he hears the insincerity like an alarm in his voice that won't turn off, but he’ll have an eternity for apologies. Right now, he just wants to know Thomas is okay.

Newt settles back beside Thomas on the floor. His eyes are wide and staring at the sky.

“Hey,” Newt murmurs, his smile light. “You alright?”

Thomas’s gaze drifts like the wind, slow and disoriented until it settles on Newt. When he sees him he smiles, adorable and dazed.

“I saw you…” Thomas whispers, his voice caught between the two of them. “I saw us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be a great help as always! Thank yoooouu <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry for the long wait! I've been so busy and its been kinda hard to write recently but I hope this makes up for it!!!!!

_Newt smiles, tufts of blonde hair falling over his face. He’s the happiest Thomas has ever seen him but he knows that there's heartbreak and fear hidden beneath- Neither acknowledge the negativity. They want to remember each other happy. Any other emotions weren’t allowed tonight._

_Newt’s leaving tomorrow. They’re putting him into the maze next- months early. Thomas knows it’s his fault despite Newt telling him otherwise. He told Theresa about Newt and she couldn’t help but tell Ava, and now they’re eliminating his distractions._

_“You better not forget me,” Newt says with a pout, leaning his weight onto his hands as to not make Thomas uncomfortable underneath him._

_“Newt…” Thomas breathes. “You know we won’t have a choice. The chip-“_

_Newt scoffs, rolling off his boyfriend to rest beside him. Thomas scoots into his side immediately, happy to be home._

_“For the golden boy you are an idiot,” Newt says. Thomas laughs stiffly, waiting for him to continue. “The chip takes away our memories, not how we feel.”_

_Thomas understands then but he lets Newt go on- lets him throw his theory into the air and fall where it may._

_“I love you,” Newt murmurs, kissing the top of Thomas’ head. “I refuse to let them take that from me. I promise I’ll never stop feeling this way about you.”_

_They’d said that to each other so many times but every time felt just as exhilarating as the first. They were in love with each other. This was love. The two of them had found their paths crossing over and over until they’d just decided they wanted to walk together - until they’d decided being together was the only thing that made sense._

_Thomas lifts his head to catch Newt’s lips with his own. They kiss slow and soft, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. Their fingers brush against each other’s skin, delicate and savoury. They’d remember this. They had to._

_This moment was theirs and they were each others._

_“I love you too,” Thomas murmurs when they pull away, smiling despite himself. He wouldn’t forget how Newt made him feel. Even if it ruined him. “I promise never to forget this, Newt.”_

_Newt’s joy fills his features in a rush like his happiness was a light and Thomas had just turned on the switch. They kiss again and the memory turns to sand slipping through a timer._

Thomas wakes softly like he had been tugged out of the darkness by a gentle tug on his hand. He blinks, finding Newt’s gaze through the blur of sleepiness.

Newt’s smile is slight but there nonetheless as he murmurs a quiet, “hi.”

“Hi,” Thomas repeats, his body still several steps behind with unconsciousness still clinging onto his limbs. It takes a minute but he pulls himself to a sitting position and his head thumps like a second heartbeat beneath his skull.

Ow.

“You went down hard,” Newt says, reaching over for a cold cloth, aka a fairly clean spare t-shirt. Thomas takes it gratefully and presses the chill to his skin with a hiss. It’s almost too cold but the effect it has on his bruise, the stilling of the insistent thump, is enough to let him keep it there.

Newt just watches, his gaze just as silent as him. There was nothing to be seen there, nothing but the cool, collected second Thomas had assumed him to be.

He wasn’t the Newt from his dream - couldn’t be.

“What do you remember?” Newt eventually says.

Thomas’ gaze betrays him by falling to his lips. They’re the softest shade of rose, nothing like the deep red he’d seen behind his eyelids after they’d been kissing.

“I remember Gally tripping me,” Thomas whispers, his line of sight trailing up his face back to the brown of his eyes like it might’ve been on a scenic walk.

“And then?”

The kiss flashes so brightly that Thomas almost gasps aloud. The two of them entangled in a set of thin white sheets is an image engrained so vividly that Thomas could almost swear it was a reality- that it was happening that very second to a pair of them in another world.

The ghost of Newt’s lips on his is enough to make his finger twitch with the urge to touch them.

He was mad. Completely and utterly insane. Just a day inside this place had driven him to have visions of his fellow gladers - well, just one. Whether it was one or all of them though, it was still not right. No one else had mentioned seeing things - real or fantasy.

He couldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t.

“And then nothing,” Thomas lies, he pulls the cloth away resting it on the makeshift table at his side - an empty crate flipped on its head.

Newt tilts his head, a calculating look blanketing his features. “You said you saw us.”

Thomas knows he makes a face - knows immediately by the way Newt sits back, triumphant at his discovery. He’d known Thomas had lied and he’d said the right thing to prove it.

“You can tell me,” Newt whispers, his voice like shallow water lapping at white sand. “Whatever it is you saw, I’ll believe you.”

Newt meant it. Thomas could see it in his eyes, somehow. Where he had once looked at Newt and seen nothing, those words had almost been a key. Now he sees everything - every slight twitch of his lip and the emotions hidden behind his iris’. All of it was right there. Just for Thomas.

“I wish I could show you,” Thomas finds himself saying. He can’t seem to pick a point to focus on. His gaze flickers across Newt’s reddened cheeks and the rose of his lips to the soft blemishes on his skin. Everything about him was mesmerising.

Newt’s voice is shaky but he breathes a quiet, “please try.”

Newt feels that wire again, pulling so tight he thought it might crush him. It cracked with the tension, sparks like stars spitting off in every direction.

There was nothing he could do to explain it but maybe whatever Thomas saw would make sense of it.

“Please, Tommy.”

It’s instinct that has Thomas surging forward and joining their lips. He moves so quickly that he forgets about the pain in his head and temporarily sees an array of silver behind his eyelids. Newt responds immediately, cupping Thomas’ jaw in his palms.

Newt feels hot and cold at the same time. Everywhere Thomas touches feels like it’s on fire but simultaneously something about the reality of this moment has him feeling like he’s dived into freezing cold water. This was real. Thomas was real. But this all felt so... fake. Like it was another trick of the maze meant to bury him a little bit deeper.

Newt pulls away almost regretfully, his mind spinning around on an uncontrollable carousel. Thomas looks the opposite; he looks the most settled he’s been in the entirety of his short stay in the maze. His mind is quiet- waiting.

“Thomas I-” Newt swallows, trying and not succeeding in forcing down the tremor in his tone. “You have to explain this to me, please.”

As nice as it was- as much as Newt wanted to kiss Thomas until the sun flew across the sky- he also needed answers. He couldn’t relax. Every part of his body was infected with confusion and it wouldn’t rest.

Thomas needed to say something. Anything.

“I remembered us. I remembered you kissing me and telling me you loved me,” Thomas takes in a breath, suddenly so full of joy that he didn’t know where to put the excess. Because it was a memory, he was sure of it. Not a dream, but a real moment gifted back to him. “I remember loving you.”

Newt doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can even speak.

It was all so mad and yet so incredibly sane at the same time. He’d felt something the moment he laid eyes on Thomas but love hadn’t ever come to mind. Love was something he knew of but had never witnessed- if this was real love then he had no way of telling. 

“I loved you?” Newt whispers, almost silent. “How do you know it’s real?”

“I just know,” Thomas tells him. He was so sure of it. That kiss had felt just like it had in the memory. The feel of Newt’s skin on his, their soft breaths into each other's mouths, it was the same. It is the same.

Newt’s mind spins out of control and he does the only thing he can think of to pull the breaks. He crosses the short distance between the two of them and kisses Thomas hard.

The kiss isn’t like the first, a soft, treasured thing. This kiss was somehow messy and loving- two boys with so much to say and only one way to say it.

The two of their hands move, sliding over each others skin and squeezing inside their palms. Newt presses his thumb into a particular spot on Thomas’ throat that has him gasping, his ability to breathe taking a back seat to their kissing.

Just as Thomas shifts, getting to his knees to shuffle onto Newt’s lap, someone raps on the tent door. They break apart gasping, lips swollen and eyes bright.

“Who is it?” Newt responds, pulling down the hem of his shirt from where it had risen over his stomach. Thomas practically pouts at not being able to see his skin anymore.

Newt is beautiful. Everything about this moment is beautiful.

Without the kissing Newt’s head was back to spinning. He was worried if he stood, the floor might buckle and send him toppling.

“It’s Gally.”

Newt glances at Thomas who’s soft smile opens and he curses under his breath. Still some anger there, then.

Thinking quickly, Newt flattens his hair and climbs out of the bed to the door, luckily avoiding an accident. “Thomas is asleep, I’ll be out in a second.”

Thomas looks both pleased and annoyed at that, but he lets Newt slip away.

Gally hadn’t changed his clothes. He still had stains of brown from the mud and his knuckles had a new set of cuts across them that were bleeding into the cracks of his fingers. Newt takes his hand instinctively and inspects the damage. Gally had a habit of punching trees. When asked he’d say, ‘ _I can't help it, the tree’s keep looking at me oddly_ ,’ and they’d all laugh it off. It wasn’t funny though - especially not to Newt.

“What did you do?” Newt asks, turning his face down and away from the light in hopes Gally won’t notice the flush on his cheekbones.

It was so strange that for a second Newt’s mind went still. He and Gally had always done this for each other - worrying about the other had been enough to stop them worrying about themselves.

“What didn’t I do,” Gally replies, allowing Newt to turn his wrist over and inspect for any other injuries. “I didn’t-”

“Sorry, I know. I just…” Newt grows quiet at the old scars and he gently runs his finger across them. The skin is rough and messy - a mix of raised lines and impulsive words he’d engraved into his body.

Newt and Gally had tried to help each other but in the end, they hadn’t been enough. They’d both had problems that ran deeper than they could see and they’d both found different ways to deal with it.

This had once been Gally’s way.

“How is he?” Gally asks, reclaiming his arm and pulling down the sleeves of his shirt.

Newt is quick to respond, “Fine.”

Newt didn’t want to talk to Gally about Thomas - it was weird. They were close but this might be the one line they’d never cross together.

Both boys look to the ground, waiting for the other to start the next part of this conversation. Newt takes the leap, as second in command and Gally’s friend.

“Listen… I’m sorry about what I said… Bringing up that day was wrong,” Newt finds courage from somewhere to look Gally in the eye, uncaring about what Gally might notice. “It was no one’s fault but my own. I told you to let me go and you did. That’s on me.”

Gally deflates like a led balloon. Newt remembers the day through a foggy haze like it happened to someone else rather than him. The last person to see him leave was Gally; in the dawn light he’d asked Newt what he was doing and when he didn’t have an answer, he’d let Newt’s shadow retreat into the darkness anyway.

Gally blames himself, even today. Maybe he should’ve pushed harder but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Newt needed to allow himself that moment - it made him realise that his life had value even if he thought it didn’t.

“When we were together… I know I didn’t do enough and I’m sorry,” Gally murmurs, taking Newt’s hand in his own. “Friends?”

The conversation was over so quickly. Just as it had begun it had also stopped. Yes, Newt and Gally love each other but they also scare each other. 

Both had the ability to see through each other's secrets like water. They knew each others tells like the alphabet and that made them as much of a danger as they were an asset.

“Are you telling me we weren’t friends before, shuckface?” Newt jokes, trying to force his features into something that could pass for happy. Gally just smiles and shakes his head, squeezing Newt’s palm with his thumb.

“Just go check on your lover boy, shank,” Gally laughs and when Newt’s cheeks go a deeper shade of red, he just laughs a little harder. Why was everyone using the word _love_?

“He’s not my lover boy.” The lie tastes bitter on his tongue - foreign.

Gally scoffs, all-knowing. “Sure.” And with a Gally eye roll and a short, unjudging smile, Gally leaves. His figure morphs into the darkness of the glade, swept into the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, any comments would mean the world <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the last chapter was so horrific. Hopefully, this somewhat makes up for it. I promise the next few chapters are actually decent though!!

“You and Gally, huh?” Thomas asks from the doorway. No one seemed to want to give Newt a second to breathe. Some conversations needed a minute to digest and that had been one of them. Newt turns and lets it sit in his stomach instead, hoping he had enough room for this too.

“Yeah, for a while.” Suddenly Newt feels terrified of what Thomas thinks of him. Was it bad of him to have been with Gally when he knew what they had was only temporary? 

As much as Newt hates to admit it, he had known that Gally wasn’t the one for him. They’d been messy, too reliant on one another to focus on themselves and who they wanted to be.

Newt had tried, Gally had too, but it was finished from the start.

Thomas just nods, crossing one leg in front of the other just to pass the time. “Did you love him?”

The words leave Newt instinctively, almost defensively, “of course.” Because maybe they hadn’t been in love, but Newt cared about him just as much. They’d do anything for one another.

Thomas nods again, “and now?”

Newt doesn’t want to answer that, knowing what he’d say would make him sound ridiculous. He wanted to say yes and no, but how could you explain loving someone and also not loving them? Newt didn’t know.

“You should rest,” Newt says instead, dipping his head to gesture to the doorway.

“I’m not tired,” he counters, stepping further out of the doorway and into the night, closing the ocean between them.

Newt’s heart was skipping, like every other beat was lost to him. It made it hard to move when your heart can't keep up with your head - when the two are so out of sync that everything in between short-circuited.

That was what Thomas’ proximity did to him, and he had no reasoning that made sense of it. None except…

“What are you thinking about?” Thomas murmurs, risking another step forward. The ocean between them becomes only a lake, the waters still and quiet.

“How impossible this is,” Newt breathes.

“What, the part where we’re trapped in the middle of a maze with no memories or the fact that we’re in love with each other after only knowing one another for a day?”

Newt feels his cheeks turn a shade of crimson. The redness bleeds onto his nose turning it the softest pink. He didn’t know how Thomas was so comfortable with this. Maybe it was because the maze was still so fresh to him that he hadn’t had the time to question anything.

Newt had spent three years here and every day his emotions hadn’t really had the chance to change. They always sat at the bottom of the hill, staring up at the snow-capped peaks hoping one day they might get there.

Now he was there. He’d climbed the mountain in a day and had given himself vertigo.

It was a hard thing to digest. Pleasant but almost too rich, like someone had smothered everything in a thick layer of dark chocolate.

“Both, I guess,” Newt finally says. “They both don’t seem real.”

Thomas just hums as a response, closing in with another step.

“I’m scared,” Newt finds himself admitting, the space between them becomes a treasure chest of secrets that only they had the map to. “Aren’t you?”

Thomas stills at that, it’s so unbelievably quick but Newt spots it - the hesitation that came with such open honesty.

Newt had seen how easily things changed here - how easy it took people to give up on things they once thought were important.

What if one of them were to get hurt? What if Thomas were to leave him behind? What then?

Thomas tilts his head like he might be able to jostle free a coherent thought.

“Why are you scared?” Thomas just asks instead.

Newt doesn’t know how to explain the gaping pit this place had left inside everyone. How the sound of that damned grate chipped at their hope of anything being remotely okay.

“Happiness in this place doesn’t last,” Newt says, not necessarily an answer but more of a warning to them both - a reminder. “There are only so many impossibilities a person can allow.”

Thomas’ face cracks, the only indication that he might already sense the same thing. “So what are you saying?”

Newt shakes his head instinctively, his gaze resting on the floor. “I’m saying we can’t be stupid.”

Thomas nods, tongue clicking. “You don’t want to do this?”

Newt lifts his head again, catching Thomas’ pained expression before he had the chance to hide it from him. “Of course I do, I just…”  _ don’t want to go back to that place. _

“You just what?”

“I just don’t want us to get too caught up,”  _ because I’m scared I’ll need you more than you’ll need me. _

That was the truth of it, cold and raw. He didn’t have the capability to risk having another relationship if it wouldn’t last. He was ashamedly reliant on those around him. Without meaning to, he’d pawn his feelings off on his friends and have them shoulder the burden too. Only a little bit, but enough that Newt didn’t feel like he was breaking under the weight.

If he invited Thomas in, if he let him carry some of his pain, what would it mean if he lost him?

Thomas just nods again, tasting bile in the back of his throat. He’d accept whatever pace Newt wanted to go at as long as he wouldn’t leave. 

“I feel like I’m pretty caught up already, Newt,” Thomas admits.

“So am I.”

Newt hates that he hates it. He hates that something so positive made him want to flee.

“So what’s the problem?” Thomas doesn’t get it, not at all. They loved each other, what else was there to it?

Newt doesn’t have an answer because there isn’t a problem, not really. Newt just couldn’t help what he knew, that good things in a place like this couldn’t last.

Maybe for a second, he’d hoped…

He looks at Thomas, the pained expression that he’d caused, and shakes his head. There wasn’t an answer he could give. Not one that would make sense.

Newt had been to a place so dark he thought he’d never see a drop of light again. That place was what really scared him, not this- not Thomas. But he could very well be his path back there. And Newt was sure that if he were to return, he wouldn’t leave.

“It’s late,” Newt murmurs, stepping out of the lake and back into the ocean until the Pacific stood between them. “Let me show you where we all sleep?”

Thomas waits, hoping Newt might say something else to seal this over, but he says nothing.

Time seemed to stop- freeze over. The moment had turned to ice with Newt’s words and Thomas wanted it to be over, so he nods and gestures for Newt to lead the way.

They don’t say anything as they walk, the frosty atmosphere turning their breath to mist. What was there left to say? Too much and yet too little.

When they approach the sleeping area, Minho is still awake. He smiles at the two of them, face a picture of tiredness squandered by drunkenness. “Returning from the woods I see…” he murmurs, eyebrows rising mischievously.

“Shut up, Minho,” Newt says, not harshly but more embarrassed. Like being caught with Thomas was something to be ashamed of.

Thomas feels his cheeks darken, the colour spreading to the tip of his nose.

“You’re gonna sleep over there,” Newt says, finger extended towards an empty hammock next to Chuck, the small boy he’d been with earlier. He was snoring softly, his hair curly and dishevelled on his pillow.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Thomas asks, his voice ten times louder in this tentative silence.

Newt just dips his head toward an empty bed at Minho’s side. A slithery blanket is askew on top of it, along with a pillow that Minho had half commandeered to prop his own head a little higher.

His bed was as far as it could get from his. Separated by a string of boys all dead to everything except their dreams.

Thomas looks back at Newt before he steps away, mouth suddenly as dry as sandpaper. “Can we talk tomorrow?” He pauses, licking his lips only to taste Newt there. The taste isn’t something Thomas can place but it’s so distinctly Newt that he feels his breath tremble. “Please.”

Newt glances to Minho, who shrugs with that same mischievous smile. Whether the runner was aware of the pain stirring between them like a physical thing, he didn’t show it. “Tomorrow,” Newt replies, stepping over to his friend and away from Thomas; the wire between them slumped in a lazy arc toward the ground. “Rest for now.”

Thomas nods, his neck stiff with the overflow of thoughts spilling from his head and into his throat. There wasn’t enough space for them and even less space to pluck out one that made sense.

Newt doesn’t glance back. Instead, he settles in his bedroll next to Minho, who reaches over to put a hand in his hair, fixing the odd curls that had fallen out of place. Thomas’ chest goes tight at the sight so he turns away, forcing his mind to block out the sound of Newt laughing at whatever Minho whispered to him.

If Thomas had been in the right state mind, he might’ve noticed the strained ring to Newt’s laughter but instead, he turns away, the sound haunting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you comment how u feel about this chapter i'd be super super grateful! Thank you!! <3<3<3<3


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